Angelica's Grotto by Russell Hoban

London was at night, with its illuminated domes and spires and clocks,’ he said, ‘how shining the river!’
    Gone,
said his inner voice.
    ‘You spoke!’ said Klein. ‘That
was
you, wasn’t it, Oannes? You said, “Gone.” I’m sure it wasn’t me. Or was it?’
    No answer.
    ‘If it was you, why did you speak then? What does it mean that you chose this moment to break your silence? I know very well that the good time is gone, so why do you need to belabour the obvious with that one word like the voice of doom? Are you trying to tell me something, like my life is no longer worth bothering with and I should pack it in? What?’
    There came to Klein, dim and shadowy, lit by one bare light bulb, the cellar of the house he had lived in as a child. In it were a coal furnace, a coalbin, and a large black boiler lying down against a wall. Elsewhere in it were sledges, rolls of tar paper, various lumber, rakes, shovels, and mouldering bits of carpet. ‘My Noah’s ark,’ he said. ‘It had a red roof and Mr and Mrs Noah and the animals were printed on glossy paper glued to plywood shapes. I used to think it was lost behind the boiler. Why would it have been down there? I can’t remember. I still think that’s where it ended up. I looked under the boiler with a torch and I poked behind it with a stick but I always imagined huge spiders there and I never felt around for it with my hand. Even now, in dark corners of this country where I was never a child, I think of looking for my lost Noah’s ark. Are you with me, Oannes?’
    No answer.

22

Third Session
    ‘My inner voice,’ said Klein, ‘it spoke. Oannes said a word.’
    ‘What was the word?’ said Dr DeVere.
    ‘“Gone”. I’d been talking to myself about how this was a bad time and I was remembering a good time when Hannelore and I went to the Royal Festival Hall for
Die Schöpfung.
That’s when he said, “Gone,” which of course they are – Hannelore and the good time both.’
    ‘Try to remember as precisely as you can: where was this voice coming from?’
    ‘From me, the same as it used to. I could feel the word in my throat.’
    ‘From inside your head, not from outside?’
    ‘Look, Doc, I’m not crazy. When I say that Oannes spoke I mean that that part of me spoke, OK?’
    ‘What did you think when you heard that word?’
    ‘I was wondering if he, if I was telling myself that I had nothing good to look forward to.’
    ‘And after that thought?’
    ‘After that I saw in my mind the Noah’s ark I lost as a child.’
    ‘Can you remember how you lost it?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Did you ever find it?’
    ‘No. All I can remember is the smell of the cellar and the darkness and that big black boiler I thought the Noah’s ark had fallen behind. I kept looking for it and it was never there.’
    ‘Gone.’
    ‘Gone. Life is full of gonenesses; I’m used to it. I keep on doing what I do; I’ll finish the book on Klimt and then if I’m still around I’ll do another one. The main action right now is with Angelica. Have a look at these.’ Klein had printed out ‘Monica’s Monday Night’ and he laid the pages on Dr DeVere’s desk.
    DeVere scanned them quickly. ‘This is the picture-story we talked about in our last session?’
    ‘That’s right. The man in the photos is called Leslie; he’s an associate of Angelica’s. She and I had arranged to meet last night but it was Leslie who showed up, with a van. He was about to do a Monica job on me in front of a videocamera but I started to get angina and he let me go.’
    ‘You were surprised when it was Leslie instead of Angelica?’
    ‘Yes, I was.’
    ‘What about the angina? What brought it on?’
    ‘I was afraid of what was going to happen.’
    ‘You mean anal rape?’
    ‘That’s right.’
    ‘You didn’t want that?’
    ‘You don’t take anything for granted, do you?’
    ‘I can’t afford to in my line of work. Did you or didn’t you want him to do to you what he did to Monica?’
    ‘I